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“We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and I’m violently hungover,” I defend myself.
“Fair enough.” She goes back to flipping the pancakes and makes me a plate of pancakes with tons of syrup and bacon.
I look at it as if it might bite me, feeling acid rise up in my throat.
“I don’t know if I can eat,” I admit.
“You should try. Soak up some of the whiskey,” she suggests.
Just her saying the word “whiskey” makes my stomach roll, but I take the fork and grab a big piece of pancake, shoving it into my mouth.
I do feel a little better once I eat a few bites, and I drink the rest of my water and some of hers.
She eats happily, not seeming to have a care in the world, and I just stare at her, unbelieving.
“Aren’t you worried?” I ask her finally.
“Worried about what?”
“The baby,” I say incredulously.
“Why would I be worried? I think I’ll be a great mom,” she says easily.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it? I told you, you don’t have to do anything.”
“Stop saying that,” I grumble. “Of course I have to do something. It’s my baby.”
“Please stop calling our child ‘it’,” she pleads, and I laugh.
“You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,” I say.
“Of course I don’t know. I’m not far enough along. The baby’s just a peanut.”
“My mom says all mothers have a feeling about it. She says she knew I was a boy and Francesca was a girl.”
“I have no idea,” she admits, looking down at her belly. “I don’t have a feeling one way or another.”
“Do you think I’ll be a good dad?” I ask her quietly. This question haunts me. I’m not sure I’m ready for any answer she gives me, but I really need to hear her answer.
Aurora looks at me. “I think you’ll be a wonderful dad,” she says softly, and my heart clenches in my chest.
“My dad was never around,” I tell her. “Not even when he was alive. He was always out on a job. I don’t want to be like that. I want to be there for my kid.”
“If you want to be, you will be,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“You’re not afraid? I mean, with the life we live?” I ask.
It’s something I’ve always wondered about. Not that I ever wanted to have children, but I know Dante is having one, I know some of my friends want a family.
I don’t know how to separate my family life from the wiseguy life, and I don’t know how to tell Aurora that.
“You keep me safe,” she says. “You’ll keep us both safe.”
“Of course I will,” I say, but I’m not so sure. I haven’t done a great job so far. I see that she’s removed the bandage from her cheek and the scar is still angry and red. Just an inch upward and it could have taken out her eye. I wish I’d taken the time to pull out that guy’s eyeball before I killed him.
I finish half of the pancakes and groan. “I’m going back to bed,” I say.
